


Brittle Iron

by Myrime



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Angst, Don't copy to another site, Drug Use, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, MIT Era, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Stane is an Ass, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-13 15:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20176876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: MIT is Tony's safe haven, at least until Howard visits and threatens all the good things Tony has built there, mostly his friendship with Rhodey. Giving into the panic building inside him is only the first step down a slippery road he is not sure how to recover from. He just wants everything to stop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: Panic Attacks.

The door opens loud enough to make Tony’s fingers itch with the need to throw something at it. There is exactly one reason that stops him – which, coincidentally, is the same reason why he is currently feeling like he is losing his mind.

Jarvis has called, barely half an hour ago, and warned Tony that Howard is coming. He climbed into his car already livid, barking for the plane to be ready. It is unlikely to assume that his temper will have cooled down by the time he arrives on Tony’s doorstep, ready to deal with all of Tony’s failings since their last meeting. Which are numerous, of course. Tony has never quite managed to art of not being a constant disappointment.

He is overreacting, he is aware of that. There is no escaping Howard, so he should man up and make the best of it. MIT is his safe place, though, or as close as it can be. Professors still compare him to his father or remind him of his father’s accomplishments, and he is sure some of them report back to Howard too. But. He has Rhodey here, he does not get smacked around for being too loud or too lazy or too stupid, he has room to think of the future.

Tony really does not want Howard to come here and destroy this little piece of freedom he has claimed for himself. He just knows things will take a turn for the worse after this. They always do.

“Tony,” someone asks behind him. The voice is familiar, safe, and still he takes a long moment to realize it is Rhodey. He is not relieved. In fact, he needs Rhodey to leave, immediately. “We’re going to be late for –”

“I’m not going,” Tony cuts him off, voice sharper than is fair between them. “Take notes.”

The short silence that falls between them presses like a physical thing against Tony’s skin. With effort, he keeps his eyes on the papers in front of him. It is last minute work he is trying to get done before Howard comes here, an attempt to appease him before they delve right into their usual destructive dance.

Rhodey clears his throat, obviously thrown. “Why are you not coming?” He should be used by now to Tony’s moods and shortcomings.

“Gotta work,” Tony explains shortly. “I’m behind on some stuff.”

He is not just behind, he has done the bare necessities for months now, feeding Obie and R&D just enough to keep them off his back. Usually, Howard does not like to involve himself with what Tony is doing, other than when complaints get back to him. Tony wonders who ratted him out. There are a number of people down in the labs who do not like the fact that Tony has been better at their job than they are since before he has started college, and at an unbelievably young age at that.

“Yes,” Rhodey draws out the word, voice full of disbelief, “because you can’t do all of this in your sleep – if you ever slept.”

Looking up briefly, Tony frowns. When he realizes that Rhodey is talking about their classwork, he swallows a laugh. How much he would give to worry just about whatever simple work the professors expect them to do for class. He would manage that four times over by the time Howard got here. His father is not interested in how Tony is doing in his classes as long as he does not do permanent damage to the Stark name. No, he is interested in usefulness, and Tony has always been lacking in that regard.

“It’s not for school,” Tony says and keeps his tone carefully even. “My father’s coming. I’ve been slacking off.”

It warms something in his chest to see Rhodey shake his head. “You’ve never slacked off in your life,” Rhodey dismisses easily. “Come one. Professor Elton will be mad at us.”

There is worry creeping into the corners of Rhodey’s eyes. It is still a miracle that anyone would care enough to worry about Tony – other than Jarvis who, in his defence, is paid for it. For the first time, though, Tony does not want Rhodey to care.

He looks up, focuses his eyes directly on Rhodey, and says, “I need you to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

Distantly, Tony is aware that he is doing more damage than good, merrily burning all his bridges. He needs Rhodey gone, though, needs to protect the only friend he has ever managed to make from Howard’s poison. Selfishly, he admits, he also wants to protect himself. He does not think that Rhodey would believe what Howard is saying about Tony, but there is some truth to it, and he does not want Rhodey to look at him differently, to see what a mess he really is.

“You – what?” A scowl is now etched deep on Rhodey’s face. It has Tony desperately wanting to take back his words – if he did not think they were important.

“It’s just that my father, well, he’s –” Tony is feverishly thinking of a viable excuse. Something that will get Rhodey to leave but not destroy their friendship.

“He has something against black people,” Rhodey fills the silence with a dry and unimpressed tone, staring at Tony as if he has never seen him before.

“Yes,” Tony exclaims, almost relieved, despite the shadow crossing over Rhodey’s face. That is such a simple explanation, he should have thought of it himself.

Even though, for all his failings, Howard does not think black people are worth less than others. He is generally only prejudiced when it comes to politicians, stupid people, and his own son.

“So,” Rhodey’s expression darkens further when he sees that Tony continues nodding, “I’m an embarrassment to you?”

Time crashes to a standstill as Tony is left to gape at his best friend. “What? No,” he protests, turning around to better look at Rhodey. He can see that, no matter what he is going to say, it is only going to make things worse. “It’s just that it’s better not to poke him when he’s already going to be mad.”

“Because you didn’t do some work you were apparently supposed to be doing,” Rhodey sneers, clearly not believing a word Tony says, “_and_ are rooming with a black guy you never told him about?”

Tony has told Jarvis and even his mother once when she deigned to listen to him. He has spent long evenings holed up in the kitchen with hot chocolate and cake telling stories about their adventures. He has pleaded Jarvis to make sense of this for him, of this friendship he does not want to lose for anything.

Still, Tony shrugs, both grateful and miserable that he has such good control over his expression. “That’s kinda it.”

How can he explain the raging storm that is Howard Stark to someone who has never had the misfortune of being in his way? How is Tony supposed to tell Rhodey that it will only make things worse if Rhodey tries to defend him in the face of Howard being, well, himself?

Before him, Rhodey takes a step back, looking for the first time in over a year like he had when they first met, annoyed and full of disdain at the kid daring to infiltrate MIT and being a complete human disaster while doing so.

“That’s low,” Rhodey says with that quiet kind of anger Tony fears because it is so different from Howard’s, “even for you.”

The words hit like a punch. Worse, because Tony knows how to brace against physical anger.

“Rhodey?” he pleads. “What –”

“No, thanks, Stark.” Rhodey says his name with as much disgust as Tony sometimes feels, but it is different like this, harder to swallow. “I’m done. Have fun with daddy while I’m looking for somewhere else to sleep.”

Not waiting for an answer, Rhodey turns around and storms out of their room, his steps long and heavy with angry purpose. Tony thinks about calling after him, but then Rhodey is already gone, never looking back.

As soon as the door swings shut, the floodgates open. Tony jumps to his feet as if it is possible to run from the sensation creeping up on him, and almost falls over again right away, his knees are so weak. He catches himself on the corner of his desk, clenches his trembling hands around the flimsy wood.

He knows this feeling, this helplessness in face of the world spinning out of control. He knows it like he does DUM-E’s code. Yet, he has no idea how to fight it, how to resume control over his body and his thoughts.

Tony is vaguely aware that he is breathing too fast, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Over the rushing in his ears, it is impossible to hear anything, however, and when his vision darkens, black spots appearing in front of him, he almost gives in, just like that, without a fight.

Rhodey’s face swims before him, even more contorted in his memory, sneering down at him. That hurts more than Howard’s disdain ever did. He is not sure whether he can withstand both their judgement in one day.

It always ends like this, with Tony messing up and turning all he thought was good into a ruin. He got the Stark legacy to uphold but mangles it further with every clumsy attempt he does at living up to it. He found a friend but pushes him away the first time things threaten to get ugly. His hands are supposed to _build_ and yet he only ever manages to tear things down.

Minutes or hours pass while Tony is caught in the unforgiving spiral of his thoughts, every now and then gasping for air that _burns_ inside him.

Once he has calmed down enough to register again what is real, Tony finds himself sitting on the ground in front of the desk, back pressed against the hard wood. When he dares to look around, the room is empty. He has half expected Rhodey to be there again, to kneel in front of him and coax him back to reality by talking about mindless things. Instead, Tony is left with the ungrateful task of putting himself back together all on his own. Perhaps he has bitten Rhodey’s helping hand one too many times now, finally leaving him free from Tony’s horrid influence.

He sits for long minutes and stares at the door. Every minute that passes is more time wasted, he is painfully aware of that, but he cannot move, can barely breathe. His whole body feels incredibly heavy and hollow at the same time. The thought of Howard coming closer makes it only worse.

Why does Howard always have to ruin everything? A laugh falls from Tony’s lips, sharp-edged and entirely without humour. Howard can be blamed for a lot of things, but Tony is an expert at leaving only ruins in his wake himself. That might just be the only family tradition he keeps up without any effort.

Finally, Tony manages to push himself back up, using the desk to keep himself stable. It is ridiculous how weak he is feeling. He can only imagine how bad it will be once Howard is gone again. He always takes so long to feel even remotely human again after hearing all of his failings recited to him.

His thoughts are running away from him as he feverishly tries to get at least some of the work done he neglected over the past weeks. He could not help himself, too caught up in the experience of feeling at home somewhere, of not being alone. He guesses he will not have any problems with that in the future.

Time both drags on and flees as it often does when something inevitable is up ahead. Tony recognizes the steps long before the door is pushed open without knocking. His insides are already knotted up with dread.

“Anthony,” Howard bellows. There it is, the eternal disappointment already written all over his face.

The air rushes out of Tony’s lungs even as he gets promptly to his feet, spine straight, ready to be judged.

The well-known panic he has just managed to push down, back to where it is always simmering inside his bones, wells up again. This time, he does not let any of it show on the outside. He allowed himself one moment of weakness and even that was too much.

Starks are made of iron. Panic has no room here.

He is sure he will give into it again later. He always does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another entry for the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: Overdose  
Enjoy!

The left side of Tony’s face throbs even while he is keeping it very still, staring down at some new blueprints he is supposed to be working on. He has let his mask drop the exact moment Howard threw the door shut on his way out. His entire bod slumped into a single pile of misery, the tension not quite draining out but building a painful knot right inside his chest.

Tony does not fall into another full-blown panic attack. The worst is over. Howard has come and he left destruction in his wake but not as much as he could. A bruised face, another barrage of insults, and an increased workload is an almost mild result. He should be glad.

Yet, Tony cannot move. He is expecting Howard to storm back in. Or perhaps some of Rhodey’ friends from ROTC will come to get Rhodey’s things.

He really messed that up, this one friendship he has. This is not something he can blame on Howard. It is purely of his own doing.

Rhodey. Tony’s shoulders hunch further down as he remembers Rhodey’s face as he left. It is so much more hurtful than Howard’s worst faces – at least now that he has stopped expecting to get anything else from his father. He cannot take it if he destroyed the best thing in his life.

Biting his lip, Tony forces his eyes to focus on the papers in front of him. Weapons are easy. Destruction is easy. It is the aftermath he does not know how to deal with. Tony is tired of it too.

No matter how long and hard he stares at the sketches and equations in front of him, he cannot get Rhodey out of his head, cannot ignore the pain in the swollen side of his face. He needs to just – stop thinking, stop feeling. If he manages to quiet his mind for just a few hours, he might be all right. He will pick himself up and go on as he always does. He just needs some quiet.

With a start, Tony’s body jumps into action as he quickly steps over to his drawer, ripping it open as he looks for a small plastic bag he vaguely remembers putting there. In it are a number of pills Ty had given him some time ago, saying, _You need to relax a bit, Anthony_. Tony has no time to relax, though, never had, so the pills landed in the farthest corner of his sock drawer, mostly forgotten. Until now.

Relaxation is not exactly what he is looking for. He wants the world to slow down a bit, to just wait for him to catch up for once. Right now, he is not going to be picky about how he can achieve that.

When he finds the bag, there are seven pills in there, looking blue and perfectly harmless. They are calling out to Tony the way alcohol sometimes does when he needs to pace his thoughts enough to work.

Distantly, he is aware that this is a stupid idea, just like raiding his father’s liquor cabinet every time he is home. Common sense has never stopped Tony from doing anything, though.

Instead of wasting time on looking for water, Tony simply opens the bottom drawer and fishes out a bottle of the good scotch. That was a gift from Obie, Tony remembers. Since he does not want to think of his godfather either – who wields disappointment in a less cruel but somehow more effective way than Howard – Tony unscrews the bottle quickly and takes a generous sip to wash down three of the pills.

Ty never told him how many to take of them. Tony guesses one would be enough for a normal night out to forget the stress of classes and homework. Three somehow sounds more appropriate for his current situation.

After a short consideration, Tony takes another one, swallows it dry this time to feel it sliding down his throat. Moving on autopilot, Tony goes over to the door to lock it, although he is not quite sure why. A locked door is not going to keep Howard out. Then he sits down on his bed and waits five minutes for something to happen, for his thoughts to slow and the world to look brighter. After that, he takes more of the scotch and takes the last two pills, just to be sure. He knows this is potentially dangerous. He just needs everything to stop.

Rolling himself into a ball at the food of his bed, Tony clenches his eyes shut and lets everything go.

* * *

Rhodey manages to stay away for all of three hours. Then he begins to worry. He has become far too used to taking care of Tony. In his defence, there is usually cause for concern wherever Tony is involved, considering his complete lack of self-preservation skills.

After their argument earlier, Rhodey should be doing anything but thinking about Tony again already. They should learn to be more independent, since their college time is not going to last forever and Rhodey will be wherever the Air Force needs him to be after that. There will be no more ditching classes and impromptu nights out just because they feel like it.

He also has to decide, of course, what to make of Tony’s words. Even while he is still upset about them, Rhodey cannot shake the feeling that Tony did not mean them. Not like that. Considering how clingy he usually is, and how little he gives on his father’s opinion, it does not make sense for him to want Rhodey out of the picture just because Howard might see him.

This whole business about Howard coming to visit sounds like there is more to it. Tony does not talk about life at home, not unless he is very drunk and very sure that neither of them will remember it in the morning – which he would often be right about if Rhodey did not know how to pace his drinking. What Tony says never sounds good.

No matter what all of this was about, someone has to be an adult about it, and Rhodey knows that will never be Tony. Instead of sulking and keeping away, Rhodey returns to their dorm room. If he sees the kind of expensive car close by that might tell him that Howard is still there, he might wait – because he is sure that Tony does not want Rhodey and Howard to meet even if he is unsure about the reason. Other than that, they are going to clear things up right now.

Rhodey is not the kind to storm up stairs, but he does take two at a time and feels his face pull into a scowl. He does not do anything against that since he _is_ upset and Tony might as well see it.

The first sign that something is wrong, is that the door is locked. Tony never locks the door, no matter how many thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment he has lying around. Sometimes, he does not even manage to _close_ the door all the way but just runs out of their room, headless and forgetting all about who and where he is. That has stopped being amusing after their first month of living together.

“Tony?” Rhodey calls as he knocks. He is louder than usual but even so there is no answer. He knocks twice more but does not have any more success.

Checking his pockets, Rhodey curses when he realizes he has left his keys inside when he left earlier, not thinking clearly but just needing to get out.

Rhodey briefly considers asking some of their neighbours whether they have noticed something weird or saw Tony leave, but Tony is eccentric enough that the few people who did not insist on changing their rooms away from here have stopped noticing Tony altogether.

Something is wrong. With how agitated Tony seemed earlier, he might just have gone out to get drunk somewhere, which happens far too often, even ignoring the fact that he is not yet legally allowed to drink. Rhodey does not think this is it, though.

Trusting his instincts, Rhodey throws himself against the door – achieving nothing but to bruise his shoulder. This really looks simpler in the movies. He ignores the pain and tries again. Two more times and the door gives in under his weight, causing Rhodey to all but fall into their room.

At first glance, the room appears to be empty. One of Tony’s drawers is open, socks lying haphazardly on the ground before it. Stepping up to investigate further, Rhodey’s eyes fall on Tony, lying on the ground in front of his bed in a rather unnatural position. One of his arms is still half-perched on the bed, while the other is beneath his body. His neck is stretched awkwardly to the back. On top of that, he is unnaturally still.

Rhodey sees the bottle lying next to the bed, tipped over in a puddle of liquid. Since there are no other bottles in sight, it does not seem enough to knock Tony out like that. In conclusion, something really is wrong.

“Tony?” Rhodey asks again.

Stupidly, he waits in the doorway for a reaction as if he can change the situation with that. When there is no answer again, Rhodey stumbles forward, too hurriedly to coordinate his steps.

“Tony,” he repeats, louder. Then he grips Tony’s shoulder to shake it.

There is still no reaction. Fuelled by the desperation taking hold of him, Rhodey pushes Tony onto his back and checks his breathing.

“Oh no. No, no, no, you’re not going to do this to me,” Rhodey mutters with increasing hysteria as he does not see Tony’s chest rise and fall nor feels breath when he holds his hand in front of Tony’s face. “Tony? Tony? Wake up. Breathe.”

On the ground, Tony takes one shuddering breath, deep enough to almost be a sigh. Just before Rhodey can feel relief, Tony falls silent again, unnaturally still.

A chorus of denial sounds loudly inside Rhodey’s head as he begins to feel for Tony’s pulse, which is slow but somewhat steady. But he is still not breathing.

Looking around, Rhodey does not find any further clue as to what might have happened. A portion of just one bottle of scotch is not enough to result in this.

“Breathe,” Rhodey yells again, and is rewarded by Tony taking another sighing breath.

Rhodey’s own heart is racing. All thoughts of their argument or Howard Stark are gone from his mind as he is kneeling over his best friend’s still body, unable to decide what to do. He should call for help, surely, but for a long moment he cannot do anything.

There is a phone downstairs, with which he can call an ambulance, but he does not want to leave Tony, does not want to go and then come back to – a dead body. A shudder runs through Rhodey at the mere thought.

“All right, Tony,” he says, trying to sound as calm as possible, although he fails terribly, “I need you to keep breathing, yes? I’ll be right back. _Breathe_.”

And then, Rhodey runs.

* * *

Rhodey is not related to Tony, so the doctors do not tell him anything concrete. After he has paced up and down the hospital’s waiting room for what feels like hours, they at least tell him that Tony will survive.

_Survive_. Which means that there has been doubt about that. That there has been a chance that Tony might have died – might have _killed himself_. Nausea rises in Rhodey’s stomach as he thinks about that. If he had listened to Tony and stayed the night somewhere else, he might not have a best friend anymore.

Rhodey waits and waits, emptying all of his change into the coffee machine until he does not have any more money and begins drumming on the table in the waiting room just so his hands have something to do. At some point, the nurses take pity on him and supply his with coffee from their break room. But still, nobody is telling him anything.

He spends the whole night in the waiting room, never even thinking about going home. Some nurse suggests he get some things for Tony, but he cannot bring himself to leave the hospital, too afraid of what he might hear when he comes back.

The sun has long risen when a frazzled doctor finds him in the waiting room and says, “Mr. Stark will see you now.”

Rhodey does not even wait for him to finish before he is already moving.

Tony looks pale and so very small in the hospital bed, but Rhodey is so relieved to see his eyes open that he does not care for anything other than storming forward and pulling Tony into a hug.

Distantly, he notices the short hesitation before Tony’s arms settle around him too, but for the moment, Rhodey is too relieved to think about the implications of that. He found Tony barely breathing but now he is all right. There is nothing more important than that.

“Rhodey,” Tony says, sounding as if he was unsure Rhodey would actually come.

“Tones,” Rhodey replies simply and just holds on to his best friend.

They separate several minutes later, but Rhodey does not let go completely yet. He keeps his hands on Tony’s shoulder and studies him closely, memorizing everything he sees.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he says.

In response, Tony smiles. That reaction is so off somehow, that Rhodey realizes how tired Tony still looks. A bruise stretches over the left side of his face that Rhodey has not noticed before. It does not look like Tony has gotten that from falling out of the bed, and Rhodey has a strange feeling as he stares at it, but he knows not to press for answers on all fronts at once.

Letting go of Tony, Rhodey sits down in a visitor’s chair right beside the bed. They are still close to each other.

“What did you take?” Rhodey asks, sounding harsher than he intended. Then again, his insides are still raw and sharp-edged. All the softness he can manage right now, he already used for holding Tony. Now, he needs to know what happened and why.

“I think – morphine?” Tony says. The way he answers so easily is the clearest indication that he is not yet all right. In any other situation, Tony would rather bite his tongue off than hand out truths like this. “It’s supposed to make everything better.”

Rhodey should do the right thing and not push Tony while he is in this state, but he cannot wait for any longer. “You really think _drugs_ were going to make anything better?”

Morphine is certainly not the worst thing Tony could have taken, especially since Rhodey is fairly sure this was the first time. If he has turned to drugs once, though, it can always happen again. Rhodey is not going to let that happen.

“You just sounded a bit like him,” Tony says, making no sense at all. “Don’t do that.”

“Sounded like whom?” Rhodey asks quickly, noting the urgency in his own voice. “Tony, talk to me.”

But Tony frowns as he shifts in the cushions. He looks like he has already forgotten what they were talking about. “Don’t let me take that again. It’s making my thoughts slow.”

Frustration rises inside Rhodey but he tries to stay calm. “And it could kill you,” he snaps. “Have you thought about that?”

Tony looks up at him with wide eyes, mouth pursed. “I don’t want to die with slow thoughts.”

That answer pushes all the air out of Rhodey’s lungs. Tony should not want to die at all, should never even entertain such thoughts. Yet, the words do not sound strange on his tongue, like death is no struggle to talk about at all.

“That’s –” Rhodey interrupts himself, concentrates on his breathing. “Tony, what is going on?”

That question has Tony looking more aware for the first time since Rhodey entered.

“Nothing,” he says and manages to make it sound real. Then again, that particular lie has always been his favourite and most often used.

Rhodey is tired of hearing it, though. “Don’t bullshit me,” he snaps and leans forward to better glean Tony’s reaction. He regrets that almost immediately when Tony leans away from him, and instinctive motion.

“I mean it, Rhodey,” Tony replies, sounding a bit too earnest to be believable. “Everything is like it always is.”

That makes it worse. If Tony is always tethering on the edge of doing something this stupid, then Rhodey has not been doing his job as a best friend – or even as a simple roommate – well enough.

“I found you unconscious in our room,” Rhodey all but yells, still feeling the shock of it deep inside him. “Not breathing on your own. And –”

“You weren’t supposed to come home,” Tony cuts him off. He does not raise his voice, does not sound particularly upset. In fact, his tone is very sober, calm.

“Is that meant to reassure me?” Rhodey asks. He feels like crying and laughing at the same time. Something big is going on and he does not understand it. He cannot help Tony like this. “I’m sorry for running out on you, but that doesn’t give you the right to throw away your life like this.”

Only when the words are out of his mouth does Rhodey wonder whether their argument really was a major point in Tony’s decision to swallow a handful of pills. The timing is suspicious and Tony’s expression had been off too. That would make it all so much worse. Rhodey barely knows how to handle the thought, much less what he would do if it would turn out to be a fact.

“Whose right is it then?” Tony asks, almost too quiet to hear.

The question catches Rhodey off-guard. He does not know what to do with it, how to take it. “What?” he asks, feeling fear creep up his legs.

Tony looks at him with a serene expression. His lips are slightly pulled up. It is not quite a smile but seems to want to become one.

“If I can’t throw away my life, who can? You? Howard?” Tony asks in just as gentle a tone as before. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Everything always comes down to Howard.”

Howard Stark is a sore topic, Rhodey knows that despite them never talking about him. Perhaps he knows it just because of that. Tony has his demons, too many of them for a stranger to grasp – and possibly for himself too – but it does not take much to realize that Tony does not have much of a relationship with his father. Not a good one in any case.

Feeling only more panicked in the face of Tony’s calm, Rhodey asks, “What happened with your father?”

He does not even know whether Howard has been here yet. All Tony said was that he was coming, but not when or for how long or for what.

“Nothing,” comes the expected answer. This time, Tony looks slightly less sure about it, though.

“Stop saying that,” Rhodey demands. Beyond all the fear, he is still angry, and he wants to get to the bottom of this. “Something obviously happened or you wouldn’t have tried to kill yourself yesterday.”

Putting it as drastic as this should have made Tony react more than just the mildly curious expression that comes over his face. Rhodey has to fight the urge to shake him, just to get past this game of hide-and-seek.

“Is that what you think I was doing?” Tony asks in a tone as if they are talking about the weather. It is as frustrating as it is terrifying.

“I’m sure you didn’t do it just for shits and giggles,” Rhodey replies harshly, not caring for the moment that he perhaps should not push Tony like this. Not after what just happened.

Tony’s lips finally pull up into that smile. It is as gentle as it feels like a stab right through Rhodey’s chest for how little he can understand it.

“You curse a lot when you’re mad,” Tony says, his eyes growing a bit vacant again, almost as if he is bored. Although Rhodey blames the lingering effect of the morphine and alcohol and exhaustion.

“Don’t change the topic,” Rhodey says, glaring at Tony who merely blinks at him. “What did Howard do?”

Tony looks surprised, as if no one has ever thought to assume that Howard might be the one in the wrong. Few people would dare to question or accuse Howard Stark, of course.

“Honestly, it’s nothing,” Tony says. He sounds at once more certain about it and more reluctant to hold onto it, like he is thinking about letting go of his lie while knowing he has to keep it up. “I didn’t do enough work, so he held a lecture about proper work ethics. He’s good at that. I’m allergic to criticism as you well know.”

Rhodey winces at Tony’s attempt at a joke. This really is neither the time nor the place for it. He also does not believe a single word about this. Nobody works harder than Tony.

“You took an overdose of morphine,” Rhodey says slowly, unsure whether Tony has even grasped the magnitude of that yet. “Which I’m sure wasn’t a mistake.”

A brief silence falls between them as Tony stares at a point past Rhodey’s shoulder, clearly thinking hard about how to deal with this.

“I’ve never done that before –” he finally says but trails off as if testing and abandoning his answer.

“You don’t make mistakes like that,” Rhodey snaps, growing more tired by the minute. At the same time, he is afraid of going to sleep, certain that he will see Tony’s unmoving form again. In his dreams, Tony might not wake up.

“I don’t –” Tony says, then starts over. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

That is not the answer Rhodey wants to hear but he takes it nonetheless. He feels like that is the best he will get for now.

Reaching out, Rhodey takes Tony’s hand and clings to it, not trying to hide his desperation.

“Don’t make me lose you,” he says quietly but with unmistakeable insistence. “You’re my best friend.”

Tony’s features soften as he smiles, full of warmth this time. “For what it’s worth, you’re my best friend too.” After a moment and with hesitation, he adds, “And I’m glad you found me.”

Tony looks close to falling asleep again so Rhodey decides not to push for more. He is exhausted himself and neither of them is in the right state of mind to discuss this. They will, though, he will make sure of that.

Until then, he will stay right here at Tony’s bedside, no matter what the doctors are going to say, and watch over his friend. They are going to be all right. They have to be. Even if Rhodey has to take on Howard Stark himself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: Protective Rhodey

Rhodey has not left the hospital since Tony woke up, except for a quick run home to get them both a change of clothes. The Stark money comes in handy when the second bed in Tony’s room is prepared for Rhodey with no resistance from the staff at all.

Tony had protested, yes, but Rhodey had been prepared for that. There is no way he is going to let Tony out of his sight. Not until they have dealt with what happened. Not until Rhodey can be reasonably sure it will not happen again.

The fear still sits inside his bones. Every time he leaves for the bathroom or to get them coffee and something to eat from the cafeteria, Rhodey half expects to stumble upon another heart-stopping catastrophe when he returns. It is all he can imagine, even when Tony is right beside him.

After an hour of dodging Tony’s demands for fresh coffee, Rhodey finally gives in to make another quick dash downstairs. They have been laughing a lot, telling stories about their first weeks at MIT. It should be all right. But Rhodey does not trust Tony’s expressions anymore.

He has made only one step out of the door, when he sees a man walking down the hospital hallway like he owns the building, barely slowing down when he passes the nurse station. It is immediately obvious that he does not fit in here, wearing an expensive suit and a slight sneer on his face as if his surroundings are so far beneath him, he cannot quite explain himself why he is here.

What is worse, the man comes directly towards Tony’s room.

Before Rhodey knows what he is doing, he abandons his planned coffee run and positions himself right in front of their door. He might not trust his instincts anymore where it comes to Tony’s emotional state, but right now, his gut tells him that there is new danger on the way. And he will be damned if he allows anyone to put Tony into more distress right now.

The man looks familiar, middle-aged and heavy-set, taking his steps carelessly as if he expects the ground to shape itself to his needs. When he comes closer, Rhodey realizes he knows him from the occasional press conference Tony has to attend for Stark Industries. He must be Obadiah Stane then, and he stands more often at Tony’s side than Howard does, but Rhodey has never liked him more for it.

Despite knowing who Stane is, Rhodey does not step aside. In fact, he subtly shifts his feet to stand more securely. Stane narrows his eyes at him.

“I’m sorry,” Rhodey says once Stane is within earshot, “but Tony is not up for visitors right now.”

He is glad the door is closed behind him, but he worries about the window, through which Tony can see exactly what is happening if he is looking. With effort, he pushes down the urge to glance over his shoulder. Every sign of weakness, he instinctively knows, should be avoided in a situation like this.

Stane does not slow his steps as he comes ever closer until he stands right in front of Rhodey, almost too close for comfort.

“I’m sure you mean well, kid, but I’m Tony’s godfather,” Stane says in a gratingly self-assured tone. “He wants to see me.”

Rhodey thinks it is very telling that Tony has never told him about a godfather. It is true that he does not talk much about his home life at all, but that just means that Stane does not rank much higher on Rhodey’s list of trustworthy people when it comes to Tony’s health.

Out of their own volition, Rhodey’s shoulders straighten. He is just as tall as Stane but it takes effort not to crumble under the glare.

“Right now,” Rhodey answers slowly, “Tony does not want to see anyone.”

Something in Stane’s face changes at that. He turns from condescending to interested, and Rhodey is sure that is not a good sign.

“Do you know what happened?” Stane asks, suddenly amiable, almost as if he thinks of Rhodey as an ally now. “This is serious.”

Rhodey knows exactly what happened, even while he does not know anything at all. The undeniable facts he has are that Tony acted strange upon expecting a visit from his father, arguing with Rhodey completely out of the blue, and afterwards took an overdose of morphine despite not having any former history with it. He also knows that Tony is deeply insecure, has an unhealthy lack of self-preservation skills, and does not go home for holidays if he can at all avoid it.

Something is wrong with Stane’s concern and Howard Stark’s lack of it. Something is definitely wrong with Tony. Rhodey is not going to let Tony deal with any of this until he does not understand better what is happening.

“I know that someone must have slipped Tony some pills at a party, and he must have mistaken them for aspirin,” Rhodey lies easily, keeping his voice pleasant enough, although he hears the edge underneath the words. More challenging, he adds, “You know how he gets when he has a migraine.”

Stane smiles, but there is nothing gentle or even amused about it. It is filled with a predator’s satisfaction at having found the perfect prey.

“All right, I get it. You’re very loyal,” Stane says, making that sound like something worthless. “But you don’t have to protect him from me. We’re family.” He raises his hands slightly for an open-armed shrug. “Young boys experiment, and this time something went wrong.”

Family is something Rhodey knows intimately. Even without knowing anything specific about Obadiah Stane, there is nothing protective or loving in the way he talks about his godson.

“Tony was not experimenting,” Rhodey insists sharply. “It was an accident, and one he has to recuperate from. I’m sorry, but you really can’t see him right now.”

Stane is obviously not used to being told no. At any other time, Rhodey might have been more nervous about offending a rather powerful man like that, but he is focused solely on Tony’s well-being at the moment. If he goes back in and Tony believably tells him to get Stane back here, Rhodey will do so. He will apologize and hold open every door for Stane with a bow. Until then, though, he will not move an inch.

“This is quickly ceasing to be amusing,” Stane growls.

Rather inappropriately, Rhodey feels the corners of his mouth twitch at the pure offence on Stane’s face, but he stays serious. “Great. Because I don’t feel much like laughing either.”

They are at an impasse. Stane could certainly have Rhodey removed – no one would take the word of a poor MIT student over that of the CFO of Stark Industries – but that would cause a spectacle. If Rhodey knows one thing about business, it is that bad press is to be avoided at all costs.

“Get out of the way.”

With slow, deliberate motions, Rhodey stands more squarely in front of the door. A glare and the way Stane practically smells of money will not intimidate Rhodey into throwing his best friend to the wolves.

“I’ll tell Tony you were here,” he answers pleasantly. “I’m sure he’ll call you once he feels better.”

Glowering, Stane takes a small step forward until they are only inches apart. “Do you know who I am?”

It does not even take much effort to hold his place. Rhodey does not press backwards against the door, does not posture in any way. He just keeps standing right where he is.

“Tony’s godfather,” he answers, using the same intonation Stane did earlier. “Who surely wants only what’s best for him.”

For a long moment, Rhodey is sure Stane is going to hit him. They are standing close enough that their breath mingles. Then, though, Stane backs up, face still dark, not looking like he will accept this defeat.

“We will meet again, boy,” he growls.

Rhodey’s lips pull into a smile, as sweet as it is false. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He keeps standing right where he is, watching Stane turn around and storm down the hallway, remaining unmoved until he is sure that Stane is not going to come back. Even then, he takes a minute longer to just breathe through the adrenaline rush. Just now, he has made a powerful enemy. Until Tony tells him otherwise, he is not going to regret it one bit.

Abandoning his quest for coffee, Rhodey goes right back into their room, where Tony is sitting up in bed, waiting for him with wide eyes. So much for hoping he did not notice the encounter outside. Rhodey hopes he did not hear what they were saying, at least.

Untypically reserved, Tony waits until Rhodey has sat back down on his bed before he starts the questioning, and even then he sounds reluctant, as if he is not sure he wants to hear the answers.

“Did you just send Obie away?”

The nickname rolls too easily off Tony’s tongue, and yet Rhodey cannot help but think that there is some relief clinging to the words too.

“If that was his name,” Rhodey answers carelessly. He thinks it might be easier on Tony if he pretend to not know who exactly he has just mortally offended. “I don’t like him.”

A short bout of laughter bursts from Tony’s lips, sounding hysterical more than amused. “He can come across as a little bit strict, but he’s my godfather.”

Both Tony and Stane throw that fact around as if it means anything even if they do not act accordingly.

“Well, he didn’t seem overly concerned with the fact that you almost killed yourself,” Rhodey answers, sharper than he has intended, “and only with how it might sounds to someone asking questions about it.”

Tony flinches at the reminder of what brought him here, but it also has his expression turning more stubborn. “Someone has to think ahead. SI could do without another headline about me acting out at college.”

Indignation steals the breath right out of Rhodey’s lungs. He stares right at Tony, waiting for his best friend to look back at him before he speaks, slowly and with deliberate urgency. “This is not about some headline. This is about your life.”

He wishes Tony would just understand that, would concentrate on what is important instead of keeping up a façade.

“I told you I didn’t mean to take so many,” Tony says as if that is the point Rhodey is trying to make.

Deliberate overdose or not, Tony took those pills with no regard for his own life under emotional distress. Even before that, he lied to Rhodey despite being obviously upset. And Rhodey let him.

“But you did. And you thought of taking pills at all,” Rhodey snaps, rapidly losing his grip on his composure. “Did you even know what was in them?”

He is not sure which answer he wants to hear, if there is one that would make this better.

“Rhodey,” Tony says with a different kind of urgency. “Everything’s all right. Nothing happened.”

If nothing had happened, they would not be in the hospital. Tony would not have psychologists knocking at his door several times a day. They would not be having a conversation about whether it is appropriate to take drugs for stress-relief.

“We’re going to talk about this more when we’re home,” Rhodey concludes. He realizes it is not good to delay this too long, but he is still too emotional himself to even consider talking about this matter rationally.

Settling back more comfortably on his bed, he avoids looking at Tony, feeling a bit of resentment that is probably unfair.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Tony says for what has to be the hundredth time since Rhodey claimed the other bed in the room. This time, though, he sounds more reluctant than all the times before.

“Of course I do,” Rhodey snaps. Gentler, he adds, “Someone has to keep your _godfather_ from upsetting you more if he comes back.”

Something curiously close to gratitude flashes over Tony’s face but is gone too quickly for Rhodey to latch onto it. “You don’t have to protect me from anyone, especially not him.”

The way Rhodey sees it, Tony needs protection from the entire world, himself included. That is a momentous task, but he signed up for that the very moment he first dragged a drunk Tony home from a party, deciding to not let the kid ruin himself.

“What about your father?” Rhodey hears himself asking and is momentarily surprised by his own daring.

Howard Stark is a taboo. They simply do not talk about him, no matter what.

“What?” Tony’s expression looks dangerously close to shattering.

Rhodey is afraid he has pushed too far, but there is no going back now. “You don’t have any filter when you’re still mostly asleep. Last night, you asked whether your father was here.”

Eyes widening, Tony looks at a point beyond Rhodey’s shoulder, his back entirely too straight. “You didn’t call him, yes?”

The hospital certainly did after Tony was first admitted, but there has never been a reaction as far as Rhodey knows.

“You asked – _begged_ – me not to,” Rhodey replies stiffly, still not knowing what to feel about that. “So excuse me if I decided not to let his business partner and friend in. Especially when he didn’t see very concerned about you.” When Tony opens his mouth to protests, Rhodey quickly continues, “Don’t push me on this, or I might just decide to ask why, the very day your father came to visit, you took an overdose of morphine.”

Absolute silence falls between them for a long moment, interrupted only when Tony clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

“I –”

“You don’t have to make up any lies for me,” Rhodey says, as gentle as he can make his voice sound with how agitated he still is. “If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If not, I’ll wait.”

Not forever, but Rhodey is willing to give Tony some time. His best friend needs a push from time to time, but he does not deal well with thinking he does not have a choice.

Rhodey wishes he would have gotten around to getting that coffee, after all, because he needs something to occupy his fingers with. Pulling the blanket into place is too obvious.

“Thank you,” Tony says quietly after a long while. For once, there is no bravado or any overstated emotion in his voice. He means this, fully and without hesitation.

Warmth spreads in Rhodey’s chest. Despite all the trouble Tony puts him through, there is no denying that he loves him. They are family – in ways that Obadiah Stane could never be.

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for taking drugs,” Rhodey counters but makes sure that Tony sees his smile. 

“I won’t do it again,” Tony promises and sounds like he means it.

“Damn right you won’t,” Rhodey says brightly but with an edge to the words. “I won’t let you out of my sight until I’m sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
